


Take A Chance

by Tilltheendwilliwrite



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, тэг заменён на Don't copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 09:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17057315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tilltheendwilliwrite/pseuds/Tilltheendwilliwrite
Summary: Anonymous asked: I know it’s cheesy and overused but can I request a classic you work at a coffee shop and sam comes to visit everyday because he has a crush on Reader if that’s okay with you





	Take A Chance

## A Sam Wilson x Reader Request Fic

* * *

It had started out innocent enough. Sam Wilson had wandered into a tiny coffee shop set back from the main streets of New York with the intention of buying a coffee and a sweet bun while he checked out the shop across the street. It had been rumoured to be a front for guns run by Hydra, a small antique shop which had recently gone from being a mom and pop run place to one owned by a conglomerate.

What he hadn't expected to find was an angel standing behind the counter serving the best coffee he'd ever been fortunate enough to have passed his lips. (Y/N), with the glorious hair, beautiful eyes, and a smile which could light up the room.

Man, she was pretty.

By the end of the week, she'd known his name, his order, and had captured his heart. Even though they'd taken down the antique store, revealing who he really was, he'd continued to return to the coffee shop every day, just to watch her face light up.

Striding through the door, Sam smirked to see her standing behind the counter. “Hey, gorgeous.”

She looked up, smiled brightly, and made her way toward the coffee pot. “Sam! You keep coming back, I'm gonna owe you shares in my business.”

Leaning on the counter, he watched her work, all graceful hands, no wasted movement. The apron wrapped around her waist was purple over a pretty blue dress, while flat silver shoes protected her feet.

“I've got something new if you'd like to try it?”

“Always,” he grinned, taking the cup from her, fingers brushing, sending a spark up his arm.

Her smile turned shy, lashes fluttering when she cast her eyes downward. “I saw this recipe on the Food Network and… it made me think of you.”

From beneath the counter, out of the glass case, she pulled a single cupcake topped with white cream. When she turned the plate, Sam burst out laughing for out of the side was a round piece of pretzel, turning the decadent treat into a faux cup.

“They're cappuccino cupcakes, cause you seem to like sweets and I know you love coffee.”

He smiled widely, ran a finger through the whipped cream and popped it in his mouth. “Mmm, that's some excellent sugar.”

She laughed, the sound deep and husky.

It set his heart pounding.

“Sweet talker.” She made to say more, but the bell over the door jangled. “Excuse me, Sam.”

Disappointed to lose her attention, Sam smiled anyway and reached for his wallet.

“No, no! You're playing guinea pig, this one's on me.”

“You don't have to do that,” he protested, but she only patted his hand, nudging the plate his direction. “I insist. But that means you owe me a critique of my cupcake when you're done.”

“Done.” He gave her a wink, collected his treat, and sauntered toward the open doors of her little outdoor dining area. It was only a couple of tables and chairs, but as he'd spent a week out there playing spy, it had become a habit.

Maybe when he went back in, he'd grow a pair and finally ask her out.

***

Sighing, you nodded to your current customer and smiled when Marcella, an Italian beauty of sixteen, skipped in the door. “You are so late!”

“And yet you still won't fire me,” she called back, dashing into the back room.

“But I will make you clean the coffee machine,” you said when she rushed back in, tying her apron around her waist.

“Awww, (Y/N),” she whined as you bagged the current customer’s order, took his money, and handed him his coffee. “Have a nice day.” You waved him out before turning on Marcella. “So? How’d it go?”

“I got in!” She grabbed your hands and jumped up and down.

“Oh! I’m so happy for you!” Tugging hard, you brought her in for as tight a hug as you could give. “You’re going to be such a beautiful dancer!”

“I never even would have tried without your help.” Tears welling, Marcella hugged you back, her mane of dark curls tickling your hands. “I can’t believe it. Juilliard!”

Pulling back, you cupped her cheeks. “I told you. Anything you want, you need only work hard for it and take a chance. A blind man could see your talent.”

“Thank you, for everything you’ve done to help me.”

“When you have your first show, my up and coming ballerina, I want front row seats!”

Giggling, she nodded vigorously. Pulling back, she glanced over your shoulder, her smile turning devious. “And what about you? Are you finally going to go after what you want? Take a chance?”

“Oh, stop!” You swatted at her. “He’s just a customer.”

“The coffee is good, (Y/N) but no man comes in every day _just_ for coffee and a sweet bun. Besides, I’ve seen him flirt with you.”

“You have not!” Rolling your eyes, you wagged a finger her direction. “Way you go, miss thing. You’ve got better things to do than stand around pestering me. Go on. You haven’t quit yet.”

She bounced off, feet skipping, happiness in every step.

It lightened your heart, even as it weighed it down. Once Marcella went to Juilliard, you would lose her as an employee, but she was chasing her dream, just as you had chased yours to have your small but wonderful store, The Perfect Cup.

Glancing toward the door, you watched as Sam pulled a worn pocketbook from inside his coat and sipped his coffee. The cake, like always, would sit for a few minutes as if he were savouring the anticipation of eating his dessert. Once he did dive in, he would alternate bites with sips of coffee in a methodical, precise way.

It was kind of… adorable.

_Damn…_ Sighing, you moved beyond the counter to collect empty cups and plates left upon the tables. Maybe Marcella was right, maybe you needed to stop fooling yourself. It had been _weeks_ since Sam had started coming in, and every time he did, your heart just _jumped_ in your chest.

The man was seriously gorgeous with his perfect skin and sexy eyes. He was also charming as heck, sweet, and yes, you did know he was flirting with you, but it never escalated beyond that.

Maybe he was just flirty. Some guys were like that. Honing and practicing their skills on any receptive female, but, even as you thought it, you discarded it. Sam wasn’t like that. He truly was a nice guy.

Lost in your thoughts, you scrubbed down the tabletop with more vigour than needed and a lot longer than necessary. 

“You’re going to rub the grain right out of the wood you press any harder.”

Jolting, you looked up to see Sam, plate and cup in hand, grinning at you. “Stubborn mark,” you murmured.

“Is that the reason for the frown on your face, too?”

You shrugged. “I suppose.”

“That doesn’t sound very convincing.” Placing his dishes in the tub you’d been using to collect the others, he took your hand between both of his, setting your heart pounding. “What’s really the matter?”

“Marcella got into Juilliard,” you said, grasping for the first excuse you could find.

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

Why did he have to eyes like sparkling pools of star-speckled sky? They were far too captivating for your own good. “Yes,” you whispered. “But I’ll miss her.”

“I’m sure she’ll be back to visit. You really care about her, huh?”

Looking away, you nodded. “I’ve known her most of her life. Her mother is a good friend. She’s like my own blood.”

“Family comes in all shapes and sizes,” he agreed. “Heck, look at mine. Half aren’t even human,” he chuckled.

That caused a snicker to escape your chest. “It’s easy to forget that you’re one of them, an Avenger when you’re here on the ground with the rest of us mortals.”

Laughing, he nodded. “Yeah, not many of us pass for ‘normal’ anymore. Oh, well. They’re still family.” He squeezed your fingers before letting go. “I… uh...” He scrubbed his palms over his thighs. “Really liked your new dessert. Seems like something to put on the list. Bet it would be a hit.”

“Oh, good,” you smiled tightly, the sudden awkwardness making you uncomfortable.

“Yeah, so… see ya around.” With that he bolted out the door, leaving you standing before your overly clean table, utterly befuddled.

Had you done something? Said something to send him scurrying out the door?

Grabbing the plastic bucket, you turned to go back to the kitchen, only to stop. Sam was standing a few steps beyond your front door, seemingly berating himself, before he turned smartly on his heel and marched back inside. The look in his eyes was one of determination and snapped your spine straight.

“Sam? Did you forget something?”

“Yeah.” He took the dishes from you, setting them aside. Gently, he cupped your face, tilting your chin up. “This.”

The shock of his lips meeting yours lasted only seconds before you were responding, tilting your head to make things easier, Your hands fluttered, landing on his waist, the contact jerking his head up.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have presumed… I should have asked…”

“You should shut up and kiss me again!” Grabbing him by the shirt, you tugged him down.

“Yes, ma’am,” he quipped, doing exactly as you asked.

When you finally had to pull away to breathe, you both whispered, _wow_ at roughly the same time.

“Should’a done that days ago,” he sighed, still holding your face.

“Weeks,” you sighed.

“So… I was wondering…” he swallowed thickly.

“Oi!” Marcella grumbled from behind the counter. “For someone who’s an Avenger, doing the daring do on a regular basis, you _suck_ at asking out a girl.”

“Hey!” he barked, glaring at her snickering form as she danced away. “You _sure_ you’re going to miss the little hellion when she’s gone?”

“Depends?” you smiled.

“On what?”

“If you’re _ever_ going to ask me out?”

Chuckling, he was very suave when he brought your knuckles to his lips and kissed them gently. “Would you do me the honour of a date, (Y/N)?”

“I thought you’d _never_ ask, Sam.”

Breaking into a full laugh, he laid a smacking kiss on your cheek. “I got a text from Steve on my way out the door. He told me to stop messing around, and take a chance.”

“I owe Steve _so_ many cookies.”

“He likes coffee cake.”

Grinning, you nodded. “Coffee cake it is.” The Captain was getting the biggest one you could bake, all to himself.

***

Across the street, Steve smiled as he tucked his phone back in his pocket, pulled his cap down a little farther, and jogged away.

**_-The End-_ **


End file.
